The Things We'll Do
by Solitaire42
Summary: Many people would do anything to protect the ones they love. Danny and Don are no exceptions. Don, in need of money for Sam, has a side job, and Danny has to fix it so he can stop. Not written as slash, but could be interpreted as such. Brotherfic
1. Chapter 1

**The Things We'll Do  
**by: Solitaire42

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or the rights to use them. They belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS.

**A/N:** Hey! This is my first (posted) story, so tell me how you like it? Please? This was written as a brother-esque love fic, but if you want to you can interpret it otherwise, I suppose.

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Don Flack leaned against the brick facade of the scummy Brooklyn bar, playing with his phone and nursing a smoke. He let his head fall back onto the wall and shrugged his aching shoulders to get rid of the kinks from another hard day of playing Good Cop.

The clock on his phone told him it was just after midnight-thirty, and if he knew these streets as well as he thought he did (and he did), he'd be getting his first customer of the evening any time now. No sooner had he thought it than headlights shone on the wet pavement from around the corner and Flack swiftly put the phone up to his ear as the perfect misdirection if the car happened to be an officer on the beat. Instead of a cruiser, though, a beat up blue Oldsmobile rounded the bend and, upon reaching where he was standing, creaked to a stop.

There was that feeling in his stomach again. That "Oh God, oh God, I can't do this" feeling that threatened to paralyze him every time. He dropped his cigarette into the bucket of sand by the bar's side door and let his phone fall to his side as he sauntered up to the passenger-side door, doing his best to look sexy and unthreatening at the same time. Just one, he felt, was hard enough for him.

The window rolled down as he reached it, and he focused on its gaskets instead of trying to make eye contact first. This part was always the worst, he knew, swallowing the bile in his throat. He placed one hand over where the window had gone and stared at it steadfastly as he placed his left on the side of the door, leaning over so the person in the car could hear him over the Aerosmith streaming quietly from the radio.

"You lookin' for a date?" he asked after steeling himself, and then made his eyes roam over the passenger seat to meet the eyes of the driver. The familliar blue eyes he met were so unexpected, though, he would swear he felt his heart stop in fear.

_Danny.  
_  
He had just propositioned Danny _fucking_ Messer.

He blew out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and ran a hand through his hair as Danny, his _best friend_, just stared at him with his mouth half open and his eyes uncertain, wide.

"I-" he tried to find someway to explain it and FAILED, utterly and miserably, and just ended up stuttering.

"I was comin' over to ask what the hell you were doin' out here so late, Flack," Danny finally spoke. "And- this? You're doin' this? What the _hell_, Flack?!" Now that the CSI had found his tongue, he seemed to the power of speech back at full volume. Don recoiled from the outrage that the other man seemed to be broadcasting, and the loud, angry voice that just hurt for so many reasons other than its proximity to his eardrums.

"I'm sorry," he pleaded, suddenly sure of the trouble he was in, and _oh my GOD_, he was going to get _fired_ and he'd end up on the streets 24/7. "I'm sorry, Danny, please. Please don't tell anyone," he begged. He couldn't bring himself to look at his friend again and just backed up until he felt himself pressed against the wall where he'd started, fumbling to get a new cigarette out of his pack. He lit it quickly, taking in a few deep breaths through this wonderful nicotine-filter and letting them out slowly, sinking to the ground and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. No one was supposed to find out, this isn't the way things were supposed to happen.

Danny wasn't supposed to get out of the car, either, but he did. He should have just driven away and forgot about it (but Don knew he would never be able to completely forget - and then, there went any future hanging out, because Danny would know that Don was a _whore_), but the car got turned off and a door got slammed and then Messer was crouching in front of him, waiting for the younger man's panic to blow over a bit before trying to talk.

"Oh, God, Dan, I'm so sorry- oh, God-" he could feel himself threateneing to dissolve into tears, and he just would NOT add that to the list of things Danny had found out about him tonight. A thirty year old man, crying on a sidewalk? If there was one thing other than him being a pro that would alienate all his friends, it would be him _crying_ on the fucking _sidewalk_.

But, no, he could feel himself shaking harder and, at this point, was just praying that Danny would leave him there. But, no, Danny Messer did their ex-marine father-figure proud and would never leave a man behind. Even if that man was a cheap pile of blubbering goo.

"Hey," he heard, much quieter than the initial reaction. "Hey, Don, you gotta talk to me here." Flack looked up from his hands and Danny had to duck a little to catch his eyes, but he did before he went on. "How long you been doin' this, Donnie?"

"A month an' a half," he croaked out. "Almost two, I guess."

Danny just stared at him for a moment. "Why, Don?" he continued, sadness permeating the question.

Don looked at him squarely, now. "Maybe I wanted to, Dan, alright?"

"I don't believe that for a second, Flack," Danny shook his head. "Stop bullshitting me."

The look in his friend's eyes was so the opposite of judgemental that Don lost all his fire and let out a heartwrenching, despairing sigh, before whispering, "It's Sam, Danny." Danny cocked his head and Flack made himself tell the truth. "Samantha's real sick, Dan. And Dad cut her off a few months ago, and it isn't like the bar she works in has a full cover insurance plan or anything." Don saw Danny settle himself better, kneeling now on the cement. "And, these fucking treatments or whatever, they just take so much out of her." He looked at his friend again, and could see a sad sort of sympathy in his eyes. "And now, cause she's got no insurance, she's gotta pay all of the cost, before they'll give it to her, and she-" he broke off, the first in what he was sure was a long line of sobs ripping itself from his throat. "And she ju- just _can't_, Dan, and I told her I'd take care of it. And- and I tried, so much. But I, I just coul- couldn't get it fast enough. And I-" he couldn't say anymore; wasn't sure that there was anymore to say. He just sat there, biting back a wail and waiting for Danny to leave or hit him, or tell him he was being stupid.

Two strong hands suddenly cradled his face and he found himself being forced to look into Danny's tear-filled eyes.

"You shoulda come to me, Don," he shook his head, disbelieveing. "You shoulda told me, so I could help. You know-" he broke off, uncertainty battling sadness for dominance in his expression. "You know you can come to me about anything, right? Don?"

He started to nod, he _did_ nod, but the intense love and understanding in Danny Messer's gaze and touch broke down the barriers he had been trying so vainly to keep up for last few minutes, and he started sobbing, all-out _sobbing_. He tried to squirm away so that Danny wouldn't see him like this, wished he could burrow into the wall at his back. But, then, there was a hand on the back of his neck. And then his face was buried in Danny's chest, and he could hear him whispering something as Danny rocked him back and forth, holding him tight like he was worried he'd lose him, but gently, like he was afraid he'd break.

Don twisted his hands into Danny's shirt after a minute, trying to get enough sorrow out so he could put the barriers back up. But just as he was feeling a little better he understood what Danny was whispering.

"I'll fix this, Don. It's alright, it'll be ok." And Don was almost strong enough to keep rebuilding those walls. But then Danny kissed him, right on the top of his head, and he lost what little strength he'd kept in the first place and let himself cry. Because he knew, he _knew_, that if Danny said something he meant it. And if Danny meant it, then it was true.

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tbc

Thanks for reading! (Please review!!)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I'd like to thank StoryDreamer, wolfeylady and NuiteNoire for their fantastic reviews!

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"What do you mean, you 'can't go back'?" Danny asked, flipping his turn signal on in the process. Don shrugged from his place in the passenger seat and fiddled with the cuffed up end of his shirtsleeve. He wasn't really sure how Danny had gotten him into the car, he couldn't remember. One minute they were a uniform huddled mass on the pavement, the next they were three miles away from his corner and counting. "What do you mean, Don?" Danny asked again when he didn't answer.

"I just. I- ah. I'm subletting. Or," he stumbled through the thoughts that were trying to force themself from his mouth. "Or I'm letting some people sublet. Right now I really can't think of which one means I don't live there anymore." He sees Danny glance at him before quickly turning back to the road.

"Why- HEY!" Danny laid on the horn as a Volvo cut them off, leaning out the window to tell the driver exactly what he thought of their road skills. "WOULD YOU LOOK WHERE YOUR FUCKING- God, I don't fuckin' believe some of these people," He snarled. "MORON!" he finished, rolling the window up again and letting off a few more blasts for good measure. "Moron," he mumbled as they pulled up to the red light (the Volvo had pulled over so as not to be in front of the crazy man) and looked at his friend. "Sorry." He bit his lip, trying to read the look on Don's face but obviously staying at a loss. "Why are you subletting? Or.. sub.. lessing? Why," he sighed, giving up on the word for the moment, but if Don knew him at all (and he does, and has, for 6 years even), the next time he was within range of a dictionary or computer he was going to look it up. It almost made him smile. "_Why_ are you lettin' other people live in your home, Don?"

He mumbled something noncomittal. Danny gave he a look that said 'that is not an answer' before pulling away from the light and on toward.. wherever they were going. Flack slumped down in his seat a bit more and said, "It was a little expensive, Dan." He heard Danny hiss through his teeth as it finally clicked in his brain just _what that meant_, and the older man drummed on the steering wheel as he tried to think of the best way to ask his next question.

His voice was soft and pained when he spoke. "Where are _you_ living, Flack?"

Don figured he'd already told him so much of the truth that it would be stupid to start lying now. "I been sleepin' in Sam's room. You know, at the hospital." He tried to shrug it off like it was nothing when Dann'y head whipped around sharply, all road-safety forgotton for the moment. "Showerin' at work. It's not bad really, there's this couch they've got there, in her room. And the nurses are all real nice." He smiled, off on a different train of thought now. "There's this one who says I remind her of her son. She's sweet, and she'll talk to me and Sam for hours, even after Sam falls back asleep she'll stay." His mouth twitched and a wave of sadness washed over him, but he couldn't figure out why. "She always stays a long time. We're the last stop on her rounds, she schedules it that way. So, then, she just..sits and talks with me. She doesn't leave." He broke off, absorbed in his thoughts. They were becoming hazier by the second.

"Don." Oh. That's right, Danny. They were in Danny's car, going somewhere, and Danny was driving. Yeah. "Don," Danny restated, a little louder this time.

"Mmmh?" the detective hummed. He was so tired, really. Had been for almost two months now.

"We're here." Don looked through the windsheild at the familiar, looming apartment building, with an uncertain amount of dread. He nodded, and moved obediantly to open the door. The gravel of the parking lot crunched under his feet and he shuffled for a minute before walking resolutely to the door with his friend.

It didn't take long for them to reach the Messer abode; a few flights of stairs an an uncooperative keyring later, they were in the apartment and Danny was half carrying a shoeless Don to the couch. Again, Flack couldn't remember when he had stopped being able to walk on his own, but he was just.. tired. He was tired.

"Hey, man," Danny leaned over him. "You stay here, ok? You want any food?" Don shook his head and his friend nodded, even though he didn't look too happy about it. "Ok, ok. Uh." Don could feel his eyes closing.

"I gotta get to the hospital, Dan-o. Sam'll worry if I'm not there."

"I'll call her, buddy." There was an affectianate pat or two on the side of his head and he could almost see Danny nodding through his eyelids. "I'll call her. You-" the older man broke off and Don felt a blanket being lain over him. "You just sleep, 'kay?"

Don thought he nodded, but couldn't be sure.

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**A/N:** Aaaaand.. that's the end of chapter two! How was it? Yes/no? Thanks again for the reviews, guys, you have no idea how much of my day they made!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I want to thank StoryDreamer and Rum on the Drums for their reviews- thanks!

**Disclaimer:** I don't know anyone who is involved in any way with CSI: NY, nor do I own anything pertaining to it. But, then, Christmas is just right around the corner, so maybe that will change. ; )

**Warning:** This chapter has some mature subject matter.

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_Flack sat in the nearly vacant hotel bar, staring into his almost empty glass of lager. Everything about the situation seemed clichè- the tears in his eyes, the horrible depressed feeling in his chest, and all over some girl? He tangled his hands into his hair in frustration, but couldn't seem to generate any new thoughts from his overtired, overworked brain by tugging on the follicles._

_"Bad day?" A baritone voice asked from his right. He looked up, well aware of the redness around his eyes and the utterly hopeless look on his face and not caring._

_"Bad month," he replied, his voice scratchy._

_The man nodded like he understood. He motioned to the bartender and called, "Another one for my friend here, huh?" A fresh pint slid into place in front of him and the old, warm one taken away._

_"Thanks," he said gratefully, taking a couple of swigs._

_"Money problems?" the man asked when he'd set the glass back down, taking the stool next to him and sipping on his- what was it? gin and tonic, maybe. Don nodded and the man continued, "What's wrong?"_

_Don glanced to the man out of the corner of his eye, taking another sip, debating whether_ _or not to tell him.  
_  
He can't be that bad_, he reasoned with himself. _He did buy me a drink- actually seems concerned. _"My little sister's not doin' so great," he choked out after a moment. "She needs alot of cash or she can't get the treatments she needs an' I don't know what to do and.." he didn't know how to continue. "It's hard," he finished lamely. His head was swimming from the four drinks he'd already had, but his mouth was so dry that he took a couple of gulps, almost draining the glass. He leaned back over the bar, his forehead resting on his palms as he stared at the scuffed mahogany. He'd been drunk plenty of times before, but this felt-_scared_ the still rational part of his brain. But the man's hand was firm and he steered Don into the bathroom and.. he tried to fight, but he was so dizzy and-_

_"Hey, man," the guy said, putting a comforting arm on his elbow. "You don't look so good. You ok?"_

_"I feel.. dizzy. An'," he stopped, wobbling on his stool from the sudden rush of toxins to his brain._

_"Come on," the guy said gently, standing and helping Don to his feet. "We'll go splash some water on your face or something, ok?"_

_Flack nodded, but sort of wanted to say no- that look in the guy's eyes was something he'd seen before, in perps and suspects, and it just _scared_ the still rational part of his brain. But the man's hand was firm and he steered Don into the bathroom and.. he tried to fight, but he was so dizzy and-_

"Hey!" It was dark, and he could the stickiness of feel fresh tear-tracks on his cheeks. His throat hurt like hell; and, damn. When had it gotten so hot? "Donnie, wake up, man." He recognized the voice, and it was _not_ the man he'd been dreaming about, thank God. This one was softer, heavily accented. Danny. He opened his eyes to see his friend silhouetted against the streetlights outside the apartment window, leaning over the end table and fumbling for something. The small lamp went on with a loud _click!_ and bathed the room in a warm, yellow light.

"You ok, Don?" Danny asked, moving to the younger man and helping to untangle him from the blanket he was trapped in. The homicide detective tried to steady his breathing, but the vivid memories of his dream kept coming back to the forefront of his brain and making him panic again. There were abruptly two cool hands on his fevered skin, clasped around the back of his neck and laying on the side of his face. Danny sat down next to him, frowning, and removed the one hand from his cheek. "What happened? What's wrong?" he questioned urgently, sliding his other hand from the back of his friend's neck to his shoulder. "You were talkin' in your sleep, Flack; bad dream?"

Don shook his head. "Bad memory." God, his voice even sounded like hell in reality. Danny stood up suddenly and disappeared into the kitchen nook, leaving the man on the couch speechless and moderately terrified. Had he said something wrong? Was his best friend mad at him now, too? But he was back quickly, with a glass of water for Don. He took it when it was offered, thanking the older detective, and taking a tentative mouthful, feeling it soothe his raw throat. He set it on the table and wrapped his arms around himself, leaning back into the cushions.

"Do- do you wanna talk about it, Don?"

Flack frowned against the pain of the details in the nightmare. "I.. uh. I was at this bar. A couple a weeks after Sam got sick. Or diagnosed, really, cause she was probably sick before the doctor told her she was. An' I was on my fourth beer when .. this guy.." he broke off, his throat suddenly deciding to stop working. "This guy.." he broke off again, tears springing to his eyes at the memory of the man's touch- so different from Danny, who rested his hand on Don's forearm when he couldn't continue.

"You don' gotta tell me, man," Danny assured. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Don chewed on his bottom lip. "I gotta tell someone, Dan. An' I trust _you_." Danny stiffened momentarily at the declaration, but his eyes quickly got softer than they'd been before. He squeezed Don's wrist and nodded, letting his friend know that he'd listen.

"Go on."

Don took a deep breath and started talking, thinking he could get it all out and it would feel better; because then he wouldn't have to carry it all on his own. "I was on my fourth, and I guess I looked pretty shitty, so this guy comes up to me and basically tells me so and buys me a fifth." He swallowed hard, and glanced at Danny out of the corner of his eye before looking away quickly. "And I guess he musta slipped something in it, or I was more drunk than I knew, cause a few minutes later he's practically draggin' me into the bathroom an'-" he heard himself start sobbing through the words and all he could think was 'God, I'm crying again?' but he kept talking, even though Danny free hand was clenched into a fist and he looked _angry_ and that terrified Don. "An' he-.. he-... I tried to fight him," he explained, almost beseechingly, begging Danny to believe him. "But I had, like, vertigo or somethin' and I felt like I was movin' through really heavy water an-" his sobs became more violent, but still Danny didn't move. And then Don thought that maybe Danny _would_ still think he was a dirty whore, but he couldn't stop talking now that he'd started. "And he-" he broke off again, his shaking so bad that he was practically convulsing; he pulled his arm out of his friend's grasp and decided that he'd have to skip this one little part.

"And so he fi- finishes or whatever, an' I- I'm lyin on the floor. An- and I still can't really move; I don't really think I knew.. what had happened, you know? I was just kinda..numb." He stopped with a forceful shake of his head and angrily ran his hands over his face; he felt like a fucking twelve year old girl, for all the crying he'd done in the last four hours. "And he tells me," he started again, voice even worse than before. Trying not to cry fucked it up more than just crying had. "He tells me, that I was the best he'd ever had." He looked at Danny, bitterness and resentment creeping into his voice, and saw both emotions mirrored in his friend's eyes. "And he drops a couple bills at my feet and leaves." He nodded, looked back at the coffee table. "I get up, once I can. And I grab the money, and hail a cab. And I get back to my apartment and light a candle and have every intention of burning the cash." The fire burnt out of his words. "And then I see that it's two fifties. And I think, "Damn, that's a tenth of what we need a week." His last sentences, even to his own ears, sounded nothing short of broken, devestated. "And that's when I realize, what I can do. For my baby sister."

He mimicked his story-self unconciously, weaving his hands into his hair and propping his elbows on his knees, and waited for Danny to explode. Because that's what it felt like he was going to do- just hit the ceiling and yell, and break things, like his dad used to when he was younger. Ask Don how he could have let something like that happen to himself- he was a fucking grown man, for Pete's sake! He can disarm a psychopath, but he can't stop some sick fuck from having his way? The younger of the two felt tears running down his cheeks for the third time that night and couldn't bring himself to care. Just one more thing for Danny to call him out on.

"Oh my God." The voice to his right was anguish incarnate, compassion itself growling through its own teeth. "What- How-?" Here they are, Don thought, kneading his forehead. All the questions his mind saw fit to bring up whenever he finally laid his head down at the end of the night. "How could I not have- I'm so fucking sorry, Don." Don looked at his friend sharply, taking in the redness of his face and eyes.

"What the fuck do you mean _you're_ sorry?" he asked rather wetly.

"If I had been with you, or- God! If I had asked you how Sam was doing you woulda told _me_ and you woulda never been in that bar!" Don froze, sniffling. Danny was blaming himself? What the _hell?  
_  
"Danny-"

"No, Flack! I might not have done the fuckin' deed but I coulda prevented it by being a fuckin' friend and I'm so _fuckin' _sorry, I-" Danny didn't look like he was crying anymore- he definitely had been at one point, Don could see, even through his own tears. A painful silence settled over the room as Messer beat himself up in his mind and the same scene played over again in Flack's.

The memory, he knew, would never stop being so vivid and sharp. Drugs were supposed to make things foggy, he thought. Then why could he remember everything with shocking detail? The cold, bruising kisses, the way his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth when he tried to scream for help, or tell the man to stop. He was whimpering, like a fucking dog. The though made him grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut.

_Stupid; stupid! How could you tell him? You know he blames himself for everything- Louie, Ruben, now this? _his mind screamed at him. _Stupid!_ He stood quickly, knocking the coffee table out of the way in the process, practically running for the door. Almost instantly he was caught in a vicious tackle by one of New York's finest CSI's, making them slide a few feet after they hit the ground. Don pushed at his arms when he wouldn't let go, the setup for the tackle turning into a sincere, powerful hug. He hit the other man's chest and twisted in his grasp, trying to break his hold and fight the wail that was building in him. First one sob broke loose, and then another, and then there was a steady torrent of them wracking his tall frame as he lay on the floor of his best friend's apartment in the man's arms.

Danny pulled him closer, crying with him, for him. He placed a few kisses on the younger man's forehead, and a few on his temple, and Don curled in on himself. His head ended up on Danny's chest again, like it had earlier in the night, and he cried until he didn't have any tears left to give to this memory, the person he had been when he'd walked into the hotel that day for a drink. He felt, every now and then, Danny drop another kiss on the top of his head, could feel the constant, soothing motion of strong, comforting hands rubbing his back. And then, he just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

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**A/N:** Sorry about that! Was it horrible? I had to rewrite parts of it because I tell stories in present tense but write in past, so when Don was telling his story, I got a little confused! I think I got it all straightened out, though, but I wanted to apoligize if any of that confused you!

Also, just wondering- am I cussing too much? I don't cuss, really, but I feel like these two definitely would, so please tell me if they're too ooc (I know Don probably is- but that's rather necessary, yeah?) or a little unbelieveable.

Thanks for reading, again! And _please_, review!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I'd like to thank StoryDreamer, Rum on the Drums, NuiteNoire and ShylohJaye for their great, made-my-day reviews. I'd also like to thank Rum on the Drums, ShylohJaye and Angst Is My Middle name for their favorites, and all _nine_ people who set alerts on this story. Soulless-tears, wolfeylady, anymousie, StoryDreamer, ShylohJaye, Rum on the Drums, NuiteNoire, Nariena, and Mellow girl, thanks! You guys all ROCK!

I just wanted to warn you, I think I might over-use italics. And I'd like to apoligize for the random POV shift in the last chapter, as well as the one I apparently slipped into my other story- Sorry! The shift in the beginning of this chapter was intentional, just because I thought starting with Danny would be a nice change up.

And, as always, your reviews make my world go round, so please don't hesitate : D

**Disclaimer:** I don't know and I don't own, so please don't sue!

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Danny woke with a pounding headache and the realization that there was someone half on top of him. He opened his eyes to the back of Don's head, the other man's face pressed into the crook of his neck, his breath ghosting over Danny's collar bone.

He smiled affectionately toward the sleeping form of his best friend, reaching his free hand up to smooth down the back of his hair, letting it linger on his neck. He was pleasently surprised to note that Flack's temperature seemed to be back to normal, deciding it had probably been stress and not an illness of any - physical - sort. As he moved to pillow his head with his arm he caught sight of the digital clock perched on top of his cable box.

_Only nine? _he thought. _Good._ That gave him plenty of time to do the things that had already worked their way onto his mental to-do list, and none of them were particularly fun. Don didn't work today, that much he knew, but it was gonna be hell on _both_ of them to convince him to go to the clinic.

The man couldn't go on like this, wouldn't, and if he put up any resistance Danny'd make sure of it if he had to lock him in his apartment in person every night and let him out in the morning. Don Flack was the closest thing he had to a brother, and he'd be damned if he was gonna lose him.

He felt the weight on his chest shift, and his companion stiffened distinctly and suddenly. Danny enveloped him instinctively in a hug, trying to be reassuring.

"S'okay, Don. It's me. It's just me," he murmured, and the horrible, tense knot that had been tightening itself in his chest since he'd found Don the night before loosened minutely when Don mostly relaxed and hugged back.

"Yeah," his speech was heavy with sleep. "Yeah, I know," he said into Danny's neck before levering himself to his knees, then his feet, and offering his friend a hand.

"You ain't workin' today, eh, Don?" Danny asked, moving toward the kitchen, more to fill up the awkward silence than to actually ask.

"Nah," Don replied, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his feet shuffling agaisnt the carpet. "Why?"

"I, uh- Hey," he turned away from the frying pan he had heating up and held up an egg. "Two eggs in your omelette or three?"

"Two." Danny leveled his best 'what the fuck?' look at him and Don sighed, nodding appeasingly. "Three."

"Cheese?"

"Sure."

Danny turned back to the stove and broke the eggs like the expert he was. "I got some things to do today, an' I'm gonna need you to come with me."

"Why? Doncha got work today, anyway?"

"Not till three," he replied evenly, mixing cheese in so it would be a little burnt and crispy as he tried to figure out how to work this into the conversation. "I've gotta go to Jersey real quick."

From the tone of his voice, Danny knew Don was curious. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He slid the omelette in front of the younger man and grabbed the sour cream from the fridge on his way back from the silverware drawer, dropping it and a fork and spoon onto the counter. Danny moved back in front of the range and set to work making his own breakfast. Don ate silently till the CSI sat across from him.

"Why you goin' to Jersey?"

Danny shoveled two big bites into his mouth and chewed on them, pretending that was the only reason he wasn't answering. He shrugged, lowering his eyes back to his plate and making a big show out of cutting another peice off of his omelette.

"Dan?"

"You want another?" Danny motioned to his friend's empty plate, and Don shook his head.

"Danny." He had the no-nonsense homicide detective quality in his voice now, and Danny felt like he was a main suspect on Detective Flack's radar.

"I-" he sighed and pushed his half eaten breakfast away, not hungry anymore. "I- God, Don." He ran his hands over his face and crossed his arms nervously. His leg jiggled nervously and he couldn't bear to meet the other man's eyes. "Don't be mad."

The half terrified look on the young detective's face was enough to break the hardest of hearts. And Danny was a softie. "Mad about _what_, Dan? What's in Jersey?"

"There's this clinic on the shore-"

"You sick, Danny?" The terrefied look was quickly replaced by a devastated one. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sick, Don. I'm fine. I'm okay, I promise."

"Then.. why-" Don broke off, eyes searching Danny's face for...something.

"It's-" Danny's voice cracked and he cleared his throat in frustration. "It isn't for me, Donnie."

There was a split second of tense silence before Don was on his feet, his stool clattering loudly to the floor. Anger was the only emotion Danny could read in the other detective's eyes now.

"Me?" Danny nodded, surprised by the loudness of Flack's voice, and instantly became very interested in his countertop - was that _granite_? "What the hell, Dan? You think I'm- what? I'm a sex addict or somethin'? I got some mental problem? I'm a druggie, too?" His furious questions hung in the air around Danny, quickly moving to asphyxiate him, pressing hard on his chest to stop his breathing. There was a moment while the taller man waited for an answer, then, "WHAT?!" and an open fist came crashing down on his, possibly granite, counter.

"We gotta get you tested, Don," was all he offered, in a tentative, quiet, hopefully soothing voice. He didn't need to explain.

"You think just cause I'm a hooker I wasn't smart enough to make the bastards that I did buisiness with wear _condoms_?" Don ground out, insulted and saddened and covering them both with rage.

"I never said that, Do-"

"Then WHY?!"

There was no sound for a second while Danny prayed Don would take this in the way he meant it. "Did.. the first guy. Did he wear one, Don?"

Don stared at him for a beat, then sank onto the stool to his right like the air had been let out of him.

"I'm sorry, Flack," Danny sighed, hating the guarded look that had painted itself on the younger man's face.

"It ain't you who's gotta be sorry, Dan. I was a jerk. I know-" he sighed. "I know you're only lookin' out for me."

"Always will, alright?" Danny leaned on the counter. "And I think I can tolerate you bein' a little jerkish for a while. Considerin'."

Don nodded, raising his eyes up from the floor and frowning at the blond. "Here," he grunted, sliding the half finished omelette back at him. "If I had to eat before we leave, so do you."

Danny took the offered olive branch with an upward twitch of his lips, barely noticeable, but there nonetheless. He finished his breakfast in four bites and two sentences and was up, moving to the bathroom for his shower.

..-.. 0 ..-..

Don swung his feet from where he sat on the table. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to _have_ to be here. He had only been in this _place_ fifteen minutes while Danny filled out some forms and talked to some person in scrubs and he _hated_ it.

He only hated three things more than this _place_ and two of them were specific men. The third was more of a concept.

Danny stepped through the door with a lab-coat lackey and shut the door behind her quickly.

"Now," the woman nodded at Don and he nodded back. He guessed a free clinic wasn't really the sort of place you would greet everyone cordially. "Dan, is it?" He opened his mouth to correct her, but she ploughed on. "I'm going to need to take a vial of blood, alright?" He nodded and glanced at Danny, who was standing in the corner with his arms crossed, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Yeah," he said, hesitantly. "Yeah, sure, fine."

There was a few minutes while she took his blood, and explained that they would run down any common STDs and follow up any abnormalities that came back on his bloodwork and blah blah blah he should really blah blah. She wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know and, frankly, by the time she was capping off the full sample and bandaging his arm, he couldn't wait to never see her again.

She gathered the supplies that hadn't gone into the biohazard or sharps bins into her arms and Danny pulled open the door for her. She nodded at him in thanks, then turned back to Don and, as a somewhat personalized valediction, smiled, "Have a nice day, Mr. Messer." And she was gone before Don could react.

He stared blankly for a few moments at the place she'd been, then looked to Danny to get the explanation that he couldn't seem to find the words to ask for.

Danny shrugged, like it wasn't anything. "Everyone knows I'm loose, Don." When all he got was a stare in return, he sighed and nodded toward the still open door. "Are we leavin', or not?"

Don slid off the stupid padded table and fell into step beside Danny as they hit the automatic doors, walking in silence until they reached the car. "Are we goin' back to the city now?"

"Uh-" Danny nodded, unlocking the doors. "Yeah. But I gotta stop by somewhere before the hospital, alright?" Don nodded, sliding into the seat and locking the door after it closed.

"Where?"

"Just. Just somewhere, Don." Danny studied his face, the shadows under his eyes. "You look beat, man. Get some shut-eye." He started the car and shifted it into reverse as he glanced at the clock. "This time a day it'll take us at least an hour to get back to New York, probably more."

Don could tell that he was avoiding something, but souldn't figure out what that look in his friend's eyes could be.

"Seriously, Don. Go to sleep." He slapped the blinker on as they waited at the light to exit the hospital complex. "I'll wake you when we get there."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Sorry for how suckishly late this is! I wrote the first part about a week ago, so I fully maintain a week till Thanksgiving.

As always, I'd like to thank my reviewers: StoryDreamer, NuiteNoire, arwen0001, and ShylohJaye- thanks! Also, thanks are in order for October Black, who added this story as a favorite, and WofOZ, who added an alert.

**Disclaimer:** I really, really can't describe how much I don't own anything related to this series.

Enjoy, and _please_ review! (Notice the italics? I do that alot. : D)

**..-.. ..-.. ..-..  
**  
Don woke just as they were hitting the midday traffic in Manhattan. A quick glance at the clock told him he'd been asleep for two full hours.

"We already stop somewhere, Dan?" he asked, wondering how they could still be so far from the lab. Out the window to his right, a sweet elderly woman gave a weaving motorcyclist the bird.

"Nah," Danny sighed, almost startled that Don was awake. "Traffic's been hell." He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses and ran a hand through his hair. "I think holiday travel's started already or some crap like that."

"It isn't even cold yet!" Don objected.

"Yeah, well. Thanksgiving's only about a week away, Donnie." Danny shifted lanes and they moved ahead three full car lengths before having to stop again. "Turkey waits for no weather."

Don rolled his eyes, in a surprisingly light mood after his sleep. Maybe preschoolers had something good going with naps. "That is _not even _a saying."

"I never said it was." Danny let out another sigh as a jerk in a four-by-four the same green color as Don's shirt cut them off. He let off a few blasts on the horn, and the jerk answered with a rather rude gesture through his rear window. "You hungry?"

He answered with a noncommittal shrug and changed the subject. "Where are we goin'? Didn't you say you had to be at work by three?"

"Yeah, but we got plenty of time." Two more minutes of bumper-to-bumper traffic and they were suddenly on an off-ramp, confusing all hell out of Don.

"This isn't the way to the lab."

"I'm taking you back to my apartment first," Danny replied, avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah, ok," Don nodded, slowly. "This isn't the way to your apartment, either."

Danny merged into the flow of traffic, almost getting sideswiped by some hothead in the process, and whatever answer he'd started for Flack melted into the steady stream of swear words both men spat at the windshield.

"What were you saying, Dan? Where're we going?"

Danny glanced at him quickly before saying, "I'm gettin' you some food, Donnie."

Don groaned and hit his head against the headrest. "I just ate, Danny!" he protested.

"Four months ago you woulda been starvin by now, Don," Danny fired back, just as loud and contrary. "It ain't right that you aren't, and you're eatin' somethin' whether you want to or not."

Don frowned and crossed his arms, slumping down in his seat. "I'm just not hungry, ok?"

"No, it's not ok," Danny said, glancing over at his friend again. "Don, don't pout," he let out a puff of breath and pulled onto another off-ramp.

"I'm not."

"Yeah? Then sit up straight and act like you aren't."

Don did.

He was silent for a few minutes before a question occurred to him. "Hey, Dan," he started, "where's your Harley?"

Danny drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the quiet music as he answered. "In the shop. This is 4f's car- his name's Charlie, he's outta town. Said I could use it as long as I filled it up and he could use it when he came back in three weeks."

"Ah." Don nodded, knowingly. "Where is he?"

"Jamaica. Honeymoon."

There was quiet for a moment and then a good-natured, simultaneous "bastard" from the two.

**..-.. ..-..**

"Just stay in the car, alright?" Danny half-asked, half-ordered as he pulled up parallel to the row of bright orange barrels. "No mater what." He turned the car off and turned fully in his seat to face the younger detective, who uneasily swallowed the last bite of his second cheeseburger under the fierce stare.

"Alright."

"You promise me," Danny stressed, gripping Don's shoulder and not letting go. His grip was strong, and it hurt.

"I promise. No matter what, I'll stay in the car," Flack recited quickly, every inch of him a fifteen year old who really didn't want to promise but had to if his plans for that night were to stand.

"I mean it." His gaze was steady and serious, and he pressed the keys into Don's hand. "In case, ok?"

"What-"

"Just in case." Danny didn't give him the chance to ask all the questions his mind was screaming:  
_Why are we here?  
'In case' what?  
Why are you pretending not to be scared?_  
He was out of the car and the door was closed before Don's brain had fully registered the cold metal biting into his palm.

**.. .. ..**

The wind pulled angrily at Danny's hair as he walked away from the car, tucking his hands into his coat pockets as he went; the print out from his computer at home crinkled as he cam into contact with it. The construction site loomed ominously above him, and the shadow made him colder. He shivered, but he couldn't tell whether it was anticipation or the temperature, or some combination of both.

The mixed sounds of yelling and riveting were wafting around from the right side of the building. Danny spared a glance back toward the car, could see Flack watching him and nodded, waving a hand to remind him to stay put. He turned back toward the structure and set out for the voices, forcing his feet along even though all he wanted to do was turn around and get back in the car, tell Don that they could sell his apartment for cash, too. But that wouldn't be enough. He didn't own it, he just rented. And there was no way his bastard of a super would tolerate _him_ subletting.

The sky was gray, the sun hidden behind thick storm clouds, the temperature dropping rapidly even though it was midday. Men were everywhere, shouting, climbing, a few even taking breaks as he walked into the heart of the site. A lone man was sitting in a lawn chair, feet planted in the scummy dirt, flanked by four strong thugs.

A sane man would have looked for some sort of messenger. But not Danny Messer. Danny walked straight toward the foreman, not paying any attention to the workers who stopped to stare. Ten yards away he was stopped.

"Well, well. What have we here?" The accent was thicker than his own, more whiny. He held his arms out slightly and got patted down- no gun, no badge. The ape stepped in front of him, in between him and the man he'd come to see. "Why are you here?"

"I got some buisiness to attend to with your boss," he replied, putting on his strong, cocky front. The man regarded him skeptically, but stepped aside and let him pass. Danny knew he was being shadowed as he walked up to the chair and it's guards.

"You got a lotta nerve showin' your face here, Danny Messer." The foreman stood and crossed his arms, nearly nose to nose with the CSI. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't pop you right here. Or let my boys practice their fightin' skills on ya." He stepped even closer and sneered, ugly yellowing teeth behind his smart mouth. "Be with your brother then, huh, Messer? I figure it'd be kinda poetic - two Messers for the same reason."

Danny didn't back down, but his stomach churned at the closeness with this man that embodied, to him, everything that was wrong with the human race. Gluttony, greed, hate. And, apparently, very little respect for hygene.

"Got anything to say, boy? Before I put your lights out?"

Danny swallowed, and forced out the words he had come here to say. "I'm lookin' for a job."

The laughter was expected. The other man stepped back and turned to his 'boys'. "You hear that? The cop wants a job here."

"You give me two weeks," he said, trying to put as little emotion in the words as possible. "Two weeks and I'll be all yours."

"Why two weeks?"

"Takes two weeks for me to do the last couple a things I gotta do, alright?" The older of the two stepped back and surveyed Danny skeptically.

"What's in it for you?" he asked.

"I'm a little short on money," Danny said, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. "I hear you pay well. To those of us who know how to be loyal."

Greedy eyes roamed up and down his body. "And what's in it for me?" Danny saw a flash of pink tongue on the disgusting lips and locked his jaw against the scream threatening to escape, and the merciless wave of sudden understanding that broke over him.

**..-.. ..-.. ..-..**

**A/N:** If you don't know who it is yet, you will by the beginning of the next chapter, cross my heart. Happy Thanksgiving to the rest of you in the States, and stay safe! (That last part goes to those of you who won't be celebrating, as well ^_^)


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